


Catch Me If You Can: A Triptych

by lucianlibrarian



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, IgNoct, Ignoct Week, Ignoct Week 2019, M/M, Politics, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Triptych, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 15:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianlibrarian/pseuds/lucianlibrarian
Summary: The Large Council of Insomnia has never liked Ignis and barely tolerates Noctis. Over the years, the two find ways to deal with this problem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this "Large Council" is an invention for the longer project I'm cannibalizing these IgNoct fics for, but it's basically like the House of Representatives, and the "Small Council," which we see in _Kingsglaive_, is more like the Cabinet.
> 
> I'm not into writing heavy political intrigue, but I do need to have some political background stuff because it's important to Ignis's story in said larger project.
> 
> But whatever, it's not super relevant to _this_. All you need is some jerkass politicians with ulterior motives. You'll see.
> 
> [ _chapter 1 written for IgNoct Week 2019, day 2: loyalty_ ]

> White noise in your ears  
Your eyes look like monitors  
But what you need is silence  
And a positive vibe  
Not your TV!
> 
> —Apoptygma Berzerk, “Non-Stop Violence”

  
  


_They may as well be daemons,_ Ignis thought, _the way they growl at us._

Except, of course, the King’s Shield, Sir Clarus—arm outstretched in front of him and Noctis—and King Regis himself—standing behind them like the impregnable Wall he maintained.

“They’re children,” Regis said, his voice even but low enough to betray the anger beneath. “Prince Noctis is barely seven.”

“And yet,” a faceless councilor says, “he’s been witnessed using magic far beyond his years on multiple occasions!”

“How long have you been hiding this, Your Majesty?” says another.

“He should be in military school, not wandering the gardens and making cantrips for his little _friend_,” a third adds, turning a withering glare toward Ignis.

“Excuse me!” Noctis bristled and ran forward, pushing past Clarus’s arm. He folded his arms and stared down the entire chamber. “Iggy is also my _retainer_, which makes him more important than all of you!”

A single bark of laughter was all Regis could allow himself at the Large Council’s expense. “That’s enough, Noctis,” he said, smiling gently. “I think they get the point.”

Noctis strode back, head high, and grasped both of Ignis’s hands in his. “I’ll never let them be mean to you, Iggy.” His blue eyes sparkled.

“Good for you,” Clarus whispered with a conspiratorial wink. “You tell ’em.”

Ignis had never felt so adored.

Regis took a deep breath. “Here are my final words on this matter: I will not allow anyone to dictate how I raise my son and guide his instruction.” His tone remained low and even, but the rage was front and center. “House Scientia has long served House Lucis Caelum, as Noctis has so graciously reminded you all, so I will hear no further objections to his continued presence at the Citadel. Finally, do not dare presume to understand the intricacies of Royal Magics. They are no mere common blades to be sharpened and honed. They are extensions of Divine Will that, at best, can be aligned with one’s own Will—and at worst, care nothing for one's consent. _Is this clear_.”

It was not a question. No one dared to treat it like one.

And in a flash, he was fatherly again, smiling down at Noctis and Ignis like there was nothing wrong in the world. “Come, let’s get out of here, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: ABLEIST SLUR 
> 
> This was a very difficult chapter for me to write. As someone who is disabled and struggled through PT to regain mobility—with the awareness that I will eventually lose it—I wanted to capture some of that frustration. It's something I really want to explore more deeply with Noctis. (By the by, this follows "[Balancing Act](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035954)," so if you haven't read that and want to know more about how Noctis woke up that morning, go take a peek.)
> 
> In any case, I opted for the slur because I needed to capture something about the Large Council—it is made up of a cross-section of Insomnians, and not all of them are good people. You can also probably guess that it's pretty corrupt by this point (I think it's probably clear by this chapter, but if not, I'm pretty sure it's blatant by the last one).
> 
> One last thing: I really don't want this to be seen as inspo-porn. It's not about that. (In fact, it's something I talk about, if subtly, in the next chapter.) Again, I think it helps to look at "Balancing Act," but I wanted Noctis's reaction to be one stemming from trauma. I hope that's clear.
> 
> [ _chapter 2 written for IgNoct Week 2019, day 6: bones break easily_ ]

“How can we—not to mention the people we represent—expect him to succeed you, Your Majesty?”

”You can expect him to succeed me,” Regis replied, repetition betraying his utter distain for this line of questioning, “by trusting that the people overseeing his care are the best in Eos. By having faith in the power of House Fleuret. By remembering that I know not only my son but the Royal Magics we both serve better than anyone.”

He dared not add _left alive_. The wound that was Sylva’s death was still too fresh, even as he remembered that the knowledge behind her daughter’s eyes swirled too dark for him to ever think it shallow.

“But look at him,” a councilor said. “He’s barely standing!”

Noctis wobbled on his smart crutches, ground his teeth. There was no mistaking the pain in his face.

Ignis was beginning to regret agreeing to crutches instead of the wheelchair. He’d seen how bad the prince was this morning but took Noctis at his word when he swore the masseuse had worked out the worst of the pain. That a round of aqua therapy in the heated pool had soothed the aches. It was obvious the prince had either overestimated his tolerance or outright lied.

_No time to focus on that now, though. I must get through this report. I must serve my prince. I must—_

“According to the latest report from his medical team,” said Ignis, “Prince Noctis’s physical recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. It’s difficult to guess how long such a process would normally take, but based on the doctors’s estimates, he’s _years_ ahead of schedule. The prince is already working on low-impact resistance training to increase his stamina and will begin a more strenuous program that will incorporate weights in the coming weeks. Current expectation is that he won’t need mobility aids within ten to twelve months.” 

“A year? Are you kidding?” Murmurs fluttered through the room.

“Please understand, councilors,” Ignis raised his voice to drown out the dull hum of dissent. “We are talking about permanent damage. No one could be expected to survive unscathed, if they survived at all. It will take time and work to minimize the effects on his Highness’s daily life.”

The Large Council quieted after a minute, enough that a singled mumbled _useless crip_ echoed like thunder throughout the chamber.

_No_, Ignis thought._ Surely no one would dare—_

“Who said that? _Who said that?!?_” Regis’s head searched back and forth so fast, Ignis worried the king might give himself whiplash trying to find the offending speaker.

“Dad. Let me.” Noctis twisted the grips of his crutches, leaning the forearm rests back so he could walk toward the center of the room. “Look. I’m really tired of everyone talking like I’m never in the room. It’s almost as tiring as…well, this. But I refuse to be useless. Here’s my promise: if I can’t walk without help in six months, you can decide whatever you want. Six months.”

With that, he lurched toward the exit.

Ignis could see it on the prince’s face. The exhaustion, coupled with stubbornness. Noctis would make it out the room because he would never let them see him fall, but he wasn’t going be upright much longer than that. _I hope no one moved that wheelchair I brought just in case. _Ignis paced his steps just a bit faster, just enough to exit ahead and—_thank Six it’s still there_—position the wheelchair just out of everyone’s line of sight. “Over here,” he said. “I’ve got you, Noct.”

Noctis teetered, muscles trembling, but he maintained control while Ignis situated him into the chair.

The two waited for the king to emerge. They couldn’t quite make out everything he said, just snippets. Words like _monarchy_ and _disgrace_, phrases like _serve at my pleasure _and _more grit than an entire Glaive squadron_.

It was Ignis that finally broke the silence between them. “Why did you promise them six months? Why would you promise them _anything_?”

“Because, Iggy,” Noctis said, placing his hand over Ignis’s on the push handle, “the faster I can walk without help, the faster we can leave them all behind.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the last one. Let's watch the boys—especially Ignis—be even more badass, shall we?
> 
> [ _chapter 3 written for IgNoct Week 2019, day 5: home_ ]

Ignis opened the email that pinged his phone. _Oh, for the love of—do they ever tire of this nonsense?_ He started walking, his pace brisk. Fingers flipped between schedules to confirm rooms, routes, shortcuts.

It didn’t take him long to reach the interior balcony overlooking the Kingsglaive training area. “Noct, can you come here please?” he shouted down into the space. It didn’t matter that he could see neither Noctis nor his glaive trainer; both were around and would hear his call.

Sure enough—a flash of blue, and there was Nyx Ulric, crouching on a nearby pillar. “Sorry, Scientia, His Highness is getting a potion. Things got a little…” He fidgeted with a practice dagger. “…out of hand during today’s elemancy training.”

“Dare I ask?”

“If it makes you feel better, you should see what he did to the other guy.”

_Good. _“I would appreciate it, though, if the Kingsglaive would keep the betting to a minimum.”

Nyx’s jaw dropped as he raised a hand to his heart. “Scientia, I’m wounded! As if I would ever—”

“Hey, Specs, what’s up?” Noctis bounded around the balcony corner. His hair was sweat-smeared across his forehead. Ash flecked his cheeks, framed his pale lips. There was a huge burn in his shirt, exposing some of his soot-smudged chest, and Ignis noted with some amusement that the prince’s pant hems were scorched clean off. Despite this, Noctis’s eyes were dancing. He looked happy, gloriously so.

_And I’m about to ruin his day._ “Bad news, Noct. The Large Council wants to see you.”

“Ugh, when?”

“Now.”

“_Now?_”

“Apparently they’re having a special session.”

“Well, if they can’t wait, I’m going like this. Fuck them.”

Nyx snickered.

“Language!” said Ignis.

“Why? Not like they deserve it, the way they treat us.”

Ignis chuckled in spite of himself. The Large Council had never been fond of him and acted only slightly fonder of Noctis. _To be fair, _his mind added, _their distaste is largely because they’ve always clashed with His Majesty on the subject of child rearing. But you’d think they would have settled after fifteen years. Oh well_. He shrugged, turned, pointed a finger at Nyx. “As for you, don’t think we’re done talking about your extracurricular activities.”

“Fine, fine. Hey, Your Highness, don’t forget—starting next session, you’re with Pelna for a while.”

“Thanks, Nyx! Tell Sonitus I’m sorry again!”

As the pair hastened toward the chambers, Ignis decided not to ask about the state of Noctis’s clothes or what he needed to apologize to Sonitus about. He was more than familiar with Glaive scuttlebutt—the prince’s unusually strong elemancy, his overzealous assaults, his uncanny ability to ignore injuries that would floor men twice his size—and his imagination was vivid enough to fill in the blanks.

_Well, he certainly paid for that last ability_, he thought with no small amount of sadness.

Ignis was about to lead Noctis through the back when Noctis clicked his tongue and smirked. “If they’re waiting on me, let’s make sure they know I’m here.”

“Noct, no!”

Noctis practically kicked the side door in, causing a ripple of outcry. “My apologies,” he said, sounding as unapologetic as possible.

“T-t-this is most irregular, Your Highness!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to shower or change. Just came straight from training. Y’know, that training you all were certain I would never be able to do.”

Ignis didn’t know whether to groan or cheer. He settled for burying his face in his hand.

Regis cleared his throat. “Your timing is impeccable. The current topic under discussion is your request to move into a private apartment as you transition into high school.”

“Are my living arrangements really a matter for the Large Council?”

“Well,” a councilor Ignis had come to recognize as a near-constant dissenter—_I’ve long wondered if he has issues with Noctis, the King specifically, or the monarchy generally_—“there are financial considerations, not to mention security concerns for anyone living nearby…”

“Of course,” Clarus said, his head cocked and face diplomatically blank, “but surely you realize that the Small Council and Crownsguard have already discussed this. Their brief has been on file for over a month.”

“I’m sure we’ve all read the brief, but it doesn’t discuss how this would affect ordinary Insomnians—in essence, the very people we are to represent. We speak for them, so I do not think I am remiss in asking ‘have any of you thought about what we think about having a prince on our street corners?’”

“Wait a second.” Ignis narrowed his eyes at the councilor. “You mean to tell me you called a special session with the intent to deny Prince Noctis’s request for private living quarters because you’re worried about the _optics_?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s exactly what this is.” _It’s all so clear, when you think about it._ “It’s bad enough he goes to public school because that threatens the Small Council’s political critique of House Lucis Caelum as isolated and out of touch. Moving him from the Citadel would further enhance his image as the people’s prince, weaken your position, and undermine your power.”

“How dare you—”

“No, how dare _you_, sir.” Ignis could feel his eyes blazing, a stare that pinned every councilor to their seats, even as his stomach roiled. “You have nothing to bargain with, no threats left to level. Your bluff has been called. You have lost. Kindly dismiss yourselves.”

“Yes,” Regis said, his voice cold and final. “That’s quite enough, Pallesco. Let’s all go home. And Noctis, we’ll start looking for your new one very soon.”

Ignis nodded once and stepped out briskly. He kept a firm scowl on his features as he scuttled away to the nearest restroom and locked himself in the first stall. _Breathe breathe breathe breathe it’s over now it’s over it’s over you’re fine you can breathe in and out in and out in and out—_

Still the nausea came. The sweats. The watering mouth. And he retched.

It took a while before his stomach settled enough for him to feel safe freshening up and leaving the bathroom. By then, the only person left was Noctis, absently fingering the giant hole in his shirt.

“You okay, Specs?”

“Of course.” But he could feel Noctis staring at him far too intently. It made his skin prickle, the voices of his anxiety spit and hiss. “Why?” he asked after a moment.

“I was just thinking about how badass that was.”

Ignis gave his prince a tiny smile. “Just trying to live up to your example, leaving them behind.”

“What are you talking about? We left them behind ages ago.”

“Sometimes your wisdom astonishes me. Come, let's get some peppermint tea.”

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking we should raid the kitchen. I’m _starving_.”

“Ahh, there’s the Noct I know.”

Noctis looked away, a small blush creeping into his cheeks. “Whatever.”

_I wonder,_ Ignis thought as they wandered down the Citadel halls, _which one of us actually pulled ahead in the race to leave those councilors behind._ He watched the prince, eyes like unexplored galaxies, watch him. Began to consider how many more light-years he had to catch up to Noctis, to whatever mysteries he was amassing in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Bother me on Discord—starryfox#7213—if you wanna chat or whatever. I'm totally awkward, but I love friends! ♥


End file.
